I won't wait for you in silence
by kawaii-kakashi
Summary: Little bits and pieces of a life they shared. SasuSaku.
1. Chapter 1

I'm thinking of this as a dumpsite for all my SasuSaku musings, little bits and pieces that don't fit anywhere else.

This particular thing is** Modern!AU**

* * *

If you went missing-

I'd tell them to look for a man with black hair, (grudgingly) cut in a declamatory manner. I'd tell them you were last seen in a grey tshirt, worn thin. It was hanging on you like a plastered junkie on a bench, and I'd tell them that as well.

I'd say that there were white blotches on your jeans from that time you painted the kitchen, also grudgingly. For every thing you do grudgingly there are a dozen that you do willingly.

And if they found someone who looked like you but they weren't sure, I'd ask if the man had a light scar above his right knee, because you got that when we were in Spain and you tried jumping up on the jetty to show off but cut yourself instead.

I patched you up that time.

I have sewn a lot of stitches in your skin because you hurt yourself a lot, and it went on until I told you to stop because by then your hurt was my hurt too.

* * *

He hadn't thought much of it, but all the little inconveniences began piling up just like bills on an over-crowded kitchen table filled with dirty glasses and bumbling plates and everywhere he went he thought of her.

As if her way of spinning the end of her short ponytail around her fingers had administered his brain brief electrical shocks and there would forever be noise instead of silence.

She picked avocados, vegetables and he followed her hands down into the box, fearing that the answer for life and the universe was written down below and if he looked away he'd just might miss it.

He wondered if there was anyone who loved her like this, if they too was on the verge of spilling out their hearts in their laps at the slightest catch of her breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Canonverse**. Now or maybe later.

* * *

Some part of him has given up, in regards to that doubt. He knows that he might have to give _her_ up.

There's a little stain of "I love you now so I wont have to love you later".

He's already planning ahead for when he's lost her. Like you do in the fall, when you know that the sun is dying and you spend every hour outside because soon it wont be there, soon she will be missing from his hands and his life.

She will be missing from him.

* * *

She thinks that he only likes her as a friend because he has never said anything or done anything.

Sometimes it feels as if as if there is something imperceptible in between them. She fears cutting her fingers on the shards in the air.

She thinks _maybe if he doesnt find anyone_... then maybe.

She would rather keep him as a friend instead of confronting him and losing him because having even a part on him is better than nothing.

Ever since she had been young she learned to love a bit less.

Always less.

There are things in this world she is not meant to keep.

Even though it hurts even standing beside him on the street, she has to.

There is no other way of loving him but this.


	3. Chapter 3

"There you are," he said, as that was everything he could say. He had looked very long and there she was, arm in arm with someone else but he couldn't care about that. He didn't allow himself to care about that, not since he had come so far. There was a lot of things right at the tip of his tongue but he kept his mouth shut tight.

He feared that otherwise he'd start spewing obscenities wrung out of him like noises made by a violin from maddened play. Awful, senseless things that would make her leave or make her love him and he still hadn't decided which terrified him the most.

_I love you when you yawn in front of the TV and I love you when you curse at me for never doing my laundry and I love you when you buy movie tickets for you and him and if possible I love you even more when you come home alone and tell me that the movie wasn't all that good anyway. _

They had lived together for years and he didn't know how to tell her that he never wanted to stop, that if they were together he would, he would-

She looked at him, silently, and he quietly begged of her to make sense of all this, to give him a thread to start pulling on.

_I want you_, he thinks, watches her collarbones and the haughty angle of her neck, watches her slim but set wrists that he always admire when she's cooking.

_I want you, for all time._

* * *

She overcame what needed to be overcome to put words to his sudden appearance on their date, but she didn't mention that because she was sure he knew.

"There you are," he had said.

As if her being there meant something more than molecules and atoms being in a solid form.

"Here I am," she answered. Because that was all she could think of on the suave Tuesday night, the man by her side forgotten.

The one who mattered stood in front of her, looking pliant and ready for her judgment, as if revering her voice in the crevaces of the evening street.

_There you are,_ she thought.

_And here I am._


	4. Night

Modern AU

* * *

It was night time and the man sat down on the worn bench beside the intricate fence. The people passed him by, the traffic frequent, fervent. The evening was warm and glossy, the air dirty from the rustling cars and mopeds. Behind him there were trees, grand and majestic, their stems dark-brown and aged. For as long as he could remember they had been slowly reaching out from behind the hedge, callously grappling for the freedom on the other side.

Across the street a Vespa veered for a cyclist and angrily shouted before blowing off again.

* * *

The first time they met it was on the stairs to the church, a maddening hot summer day, she was going up and he was hurrying down. They bumped into each other, nearly fell. "Sorry," he breathed, continued down the stairs, not thinking anything besides making his way into the shadowy crevaces below.

* * *

The second time he wound up next to her on a restaurant, a faulty coincidence, a lack of regulations in Heaven that rendered them beside each other. They both had company, people with whom they shared a life. During the whole dinner he kept sneaking glances across the distance, as he could not yet place where he had seen her. When her table got up to leave he excused himself. His girlfriend made a sour face, knowing full well that he hadn't spared her a single thought during the evening. He felt her stabbing gazes at his back but went to her, the other woman by the exit.

She was putting on a scarf. He watched her, mesmerized, as she wound it around her gallant shoulders. She felt his presence and turned to look.

She saw him, knew him. A glance to her left to make sure her date was occupied, a burly blond that Sasuke hated already. She pulled on her light jacket as she approached and finally stopped in front of him, an image of desire in her jewelry-green dress.

"At least you didn't run into me this time," she said confidently, the little nose upturned in defiance.

"I think you ran into me." He loved looking at her already, to watch the expressions play each other out on her face. She smiled at him but it only lasted for a second, then her date was coming over. Before he'd made it she told him her name. Three syllables, tasting like a reckoning.

He looked her up, had never been so happy to strike through the thick yellow list of names and numbers.

He found her.

He called.

* * *

The third time he saw her it was autumn, she was getting off the bus on the stop they had decided. October, and the trees were yellow, the sky indifferently clear. She wore a thick, brown coat to shield her lithe frame from the gaping wind. The breeze moved in her hair, making the strands swerve, and it took a minute before she made it over to him but it felt like an eternity of having his heart visible for all to see. How come no one stopped in their tracks, gutted by her beauty?

Every time she smiled it was like being ravaged and watching her in his home made life stand ajar.

It was October, and he loved her already.

* * *

He got up from the bench. He wished she would appear at this very minute, carrying a bag of bread, balancing it upon her hip like a practice for days when she was older and it was no longer groceries that needed carrying. She wanted a child, and he did too, something to leave behind in a world that was relentless and unforgiving, a proof that somehow love would conquer.

Since it was obvious that it would not, he stood up, made his way to the black gate welded into the fence. It was open but he stopped in front of it.

He searched for her stone.

He couldn't see it but knew it was there, knew from his hollow home that she was gone.


End file.
